Shattered Images
by Frankie and Avery.dont ask
Summary: Major Character DEATHS! Be warned. Russel understands that life can shatter at any moment. One-Shot. Reviews Most Welcome. Unbeta'd


**Okay, so I was bitten by an extremely feral and rabid plot bunny. It wouldn't leave me the hell alone. So, here is a poorly written unedited, unbeta'd thing that I am passing off as a one-shot. I am not apologizing. I am blaming the Bunny.**

**Major character deaths!!!!**

**Disclaimer: Don't own it, but Holy Christ do I wish I did (especially Holmes. Hmmm, yum).**

**~Frankie**

**Shattered Images**

I stood encircled by Holmes' family. By _my _family. Damien clung hard to my right hand with his left. Mycroft's bulk cast shadows on my right. I could feel Uncle John's warm hand on my shoulder. I swallowed and breathed hard through my nose. I hadn't cried yet. I am not usually one to cry about anything, but…

I could feel the dampness welling in my eyes. I bit down hard on my tongue to stop them, but it wasn't of any use. My right hand went to my stomach and I could see again, inside my mind's eye, that day…

It was only a few weeks ago, but it seems like a lifetime. Holmes was sitting at his desk, violin on the couch visible inside its open case. His pen flew across the paper as he made notes for his next book, which I believe was intended as some kind of memoir. Now, I'll….

I entered the room hesitantly, watching him. Finally, some part of my movement alerted him to my presence. He looked up and offered me a lazy smile. "Hello, Russel." His smiled dropped into a frown when he noted the look on my face. "What's wrong?"

I blinked, then shook my head. "I'm not sure, Holmes. That depends, I suppose, on you."

He stood and took the few steps that would put him in front of me. "Tell me."

"I…" I began, but couldn't continue. "Holmes…"

"Russel," He took my hands. He was being uncharacteristically gentle. I most have looked a wreck. "Russel, breath."

"Holmes, the doctors…they were wrong."

His frown deepened. "About what, Russel? Which doctors? About your shoulder? What?"

I shook my head. "Earlier…Holmes, I think I'm…that is. You're going to be…a father…again."

He frowned a moment longer, then his eyes went wide. "Russel…you're pregnant?"

I nodded and shut my eyes. I don't know what I was waiting for, a blow maybe? Nothing happened. I sat, with my eyes closed, waiting for his reaction, but nothing happened. I opened them to fin him still gaping at me. "Holmes, are you alright? Should I call Uncle John for you?"

He waved me off, but then nodded. "Certainly, call Watson. He will love to know that you're…" He looked at me. "We're going to have a child. Russel…"

His face broke into a side grin and he stood, pulling me up into his arms. I felt a laugh bubble up in my chest as relief flooded me.

A thumb tapping the inside of my wrist brought me to the present again. I lifted my gaze once again to the coffin in front of me. My mind was not accepting what was before my eyes. Holmes could not be dead. My Holmes, who had defied death for so long. It was impossible that a bullet, a stray bullet, accidentally fired, should have taken the life of the Greatest Detective the world has ever seen. He was working on a case for Scotland Yard, damn them.

The black velvet cloth was slipped from the coffin by the head of the Royal Guard. My mind took stock of all the people who had attended, but in that moment I paid them all no heed. My eyes were only for the casket of my husband. I stepped forward, before they could lower it, and placed a shaking hand on the wood. I choked on a sob as I was assaulted with memories. It took me a moment to get my breathing under control.

I squeezed my eyes shut to clear them of tears and took one last look at the box that Holmes would spend eternity in. As I pulled my hand away from its surface, a sharp pain shot throw my lower abdomen. I gasped and hunched into myself. I waited for it to pass, but instead it doubled in intensity. I could feel the world shift around me as I dropped to the hard packed dirt.

Holmes's coffin was the last thing I saw before the blackness swallowed me.

I opened my eyes and was greeted with the sight of whitewash. I groaned. A Hospital. I glanced around and saw Uncle John standing anxiously to one side. "Uncle John, where's Holmes? I must have hit my head at some point, because I had the strangest hallucination."

The round man shook his head and a tear dropped form his eye. "It wasn't a hallucination, Mary. Holmes is dead. And you didn't hit your head. I've some rather horrible news."

He seemed to shrink in on himself and grow old. My hand flew to my stomach and my breathing went into double-time. "Not the baby. No. Not the baby. It's his. It's fine. It—"

"Mary, calm down. Mary!" I turned my wild eyes to him. "Mary, I'm so sorry. I wouldn't have let you out of bed if I'd known, but the accident…It…You were damaged. You shouldn't have been able to conceive to start and the stress…I'm so terribly sorry, Mary. I know that—"

"No!" It was a snarl. "You don't know! You can never know. No will ever understand. He's dead. I have nothing anymore."

Then I shook my head. I sat and swung my legs over the side of the horrid hospital bed. I wrapped my arms around myself, hugging my baby. Uncle John was obviously lying about it all. It was disgusting cruel joke. Especially to play on a pregnant woman. Especially on me. I didn't understand why he was saying such awful things.

I had to get away from him. He called to me, started toward me, but the look in my eyes stopped him. I hated Uncle John then, just like I was so determined to all those years ago. He froze, his eyes wide and dripping tears. I stood. The room spun for a moment, but I ignored it. The door remained stationary. I opened it and left the room in my hospital gown. The roof seemed to me to be the best destination. Holmes might be up there, smoking a pipe. They usually refused to let him inside because of the horrible smell of the shag tobacco. I smiled and measured my slow steps.

Holmes would be so proud when the baby was born. I would not go away and keep our son away from him. He could be a proper father to my son. I rubbed my sore abdomen. The baby would come soon and be healthy and happy. Holmes would stop working for the hateful Yard. He would stay with me and help me take care of our son. He;d work only for the crown and for foreign dignitaries and the like, just as he did during the war. I'd work on my research and help him when I could. Mrs. Hudson would help us as well. She'd love my son just as much as we did. I was smiling broadly at the picture in my head when I finally reached the roof. The hospital was the tallest building in the area, six stories high. I would be able to see Holmes if he were outside smoking as well.

I felt satisfaction well up. I opened the roof door. There was no one in my immediate view. I sighed and stepped out. It took me fifteen steps to make it across to the edge. I leaned over and looked down. I didn't see Holmes out there either. I bit my lip, as a memory hit me. I saw images of Holmes, pale and immobile lying on a metal table in the basement of the yard. Blood. People talking. The world around me spun. Uncle John wasn't lying? Holmes was gone? I shook my head. No. it was just another weird hallucination. I closed my eyes and leaned forward a little more. Holmes was fine. The Baby was fine. I was whole and healthy just like always. We'd be a family like I remember from my childhood, before the accident. I'd show Holmes he could be a good father. Everyone would be happy. Everything was fine. The feel of the wind in my face was lovely. I felt light, weightless.

I smiled, eye still closed. Everything was fine.

**Fin.**


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